What is the appropriate response when your hurt child tells you with a smile on his face,
I had a dream last night that I was in the ocean with a lot of people, and a big, great white shark ate one of them. It was [insert name of birthmom]!
“Do you think she tasted good?”
“How much blood was there?”
“Ooo! Maybe tonight your subconscious can squeeze her to death with a big snake! You like big snakes!”?
None of those options seemed even mildly appropriate, so I just asked him how he felt about her getting eaten by the shark.
“Good!” was the answer.
Okey dokey then.
Overall, I think I’m going to mark this one as a point in the progress column because, as he shared the dream with us, he said her name without acting like he was saying “Voldemort” for the very first time rather than “He-who-must-not-be-named.” And call me crazy, but I think Dumbledore got it right when he said that the fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself. Tonight? Spuds wasn’t afraid of the name.
Progress. For Spuds, anyway.
I, on the other hand, am relying on psychological advice from a fictional wizard. Let’s not talk about what that might mean for me.
Tewt the Newt says, “Lumos!”